I’ve been meaning to ride the Dales Divide long distance off-road race for three years now. Each year I’ve entered and then been thwarted by injury and the resulting lack of bolidly confidence. This year is only slightly different in that I’ve decided not to enter at all, and am doing a 15-mile trail run around the Mendips instead. I’m currently woefully unprepared mostly because I keep riding my bike instead of going running. This is not surprising.

One of the good things to come out of my repeated bailing on the Dales Divide is a WhatsApp group with four friends all of whom have actually done it. Last weekend I tagged along on one of their preparation rides, taking in a couple of days of gravel roads around the Forest of Dean.

We started out in Chepstow, following a route that Claire had found. I seem to often assume the role of route/navigation chief and enjoy the chance to follow someone else’s lead from time to time. The route was intended for gravel bikes but three of us were on hardtails. My trusty Santa Cruz Chameleon has been on a lot of adventures now and has never let me down, but more on that later.

On meeting Ali and Claire I was told that they had had issues with her inner tubes and that Claire was still running tubes on her bike. I don’t want to sound like some sort of bike setup snob but hearing of people using tubes on mountainbikes always sends a little tingle of fear down my spine, tubes equal trouble. I don’t know how we ever got by when they were the norm.

We rode out of Chepstow and up into the hills, on a mix of double-track fire roads and quiet lanes. The riding was technically easy but physically sapping and very hilly. I was envious of Ali’s shiny new gravel bike whizzing along on the roads, but he was carrying my lunch, so the envy didn’t get too bad.

Near Trellech we came across a little cake stand tucked away on a quiet corner. I went for the gingerbread chocolate cake which was absolutely incredible. I love ginger in all its forms and will never say no to a ginger-based treat. Ali opted for the custard slice but I think we agreed the ginger was the winner. As should be the way, bike rides are often an excuse to find and eat cake. 

Less fortunately this was the spot of the inevitable inner tube failure, with a sneaky thorn causing Claire’s back tyre to deflate. I sang the praises of tubeless for a bit and then gave a demonstration of the best technique for refitting a tyre without levers. In these sorts of mechanical sitatations, I’m always very keen to help out where I can and try and share little tips and tricks to make people’s lives easier, though I often worry I might be mansplaining and should just stand back and leave them to it.

Tube replaced and ‘you should go tubeless’ lecture done and dusted we cracked on down the valley to Monmouth and around Staunton. It was interesting seeing these woods from a different perspective. Normally I’m pulling the enduro bike out of the car and doing a few laps, this time I was just passing through. A part of me felt missed an opportunity at not sneaking in a trail or two, but its pretty gnarly stuff for having bikepacking bags on and one of the crew being on a gravel bike.

The miles ticked by easily on these forest roads, and before long we were earning our evening stop in St Braviels. Ali remarked ‘There is only 11km to go’ and we naturally assumed this would be plain sailing. In reality this was where the spicy bits arrived, with us leaving the forest roads and climbing some stupidly steep lanes and fields.

My legs were feeling pretty good on the steeps, as usual, I find myself settling into a sort of comfort zone when things get unpleasantly steep. On gentler slopes, I get bored and tired, but I love a ‘can I make it to the top’ style challenge. This was to be my undoing on a particularly steep and rocky section where I tried to launch into a few hard pedal strokes to get over a big slippery-looking rock, and ended up sending a big stick through my rear mech whilst pedalling as hard as possible.

The initial reaction was that this disaster stuff. the mech was very twisted, and the frames hanger quite badly bent. Fortunately, I managed to bend the hanger back straighter with a multi tool, and force the mech into a semi functional position, giving me 9 of 11 gears and with regular barrel adjuster tweaks not even being too noisy. As much as mechanicals are a pain I found it satisfying to perform a functional trailside fix that could easily panned out differently and resulted in a 10km walk/scoot. The mech ultimately held up for the whole 110km second day too, making me a very happy boy.

Next up was a spicy descent, I think this was the best bit of riding of the whole weekend, a steep rocky bridleway with a real ‘pinball’ feeling. I much prefer rocks to mud and really enjoy the mental Tetris of trying to pick the right line and not smash the rear wheel into anything too big. I’m not sure that Claire and Ali enjoyed it quite as much, but we all made it down in one piece, with one final steep climb to go before our bed for the night, and meeting Ayoob and Freya who were joining us later in the day. 

Our night stop was a place called Camp Hillcrest, a holiday, education, and skateboard camp. It was a perfect find, very reasonably priced, laid back, and not too fancy to arrive on dirty mountainbikes. The place had an indoor skate park, hot tub, farm animals, and all sorts. We imagined it would be a great vibe on a summer afternoon, but this was its sleepy off-season. Ali had the wood burner lit within about 5 seconds of entering the place, and the hosts made us dinner for £5 each. we were slightly concerned about what to expect of the £5 dinner, but were served a huge and delicious veggie chilli which exceeded all expectations.

Once warm, washed, and fed we were all on low battery, so slumped in front of the TV for some downtime. The signal was bad and the only channel that seemed to work was one showing Love Island. I’d never watched Love Island and found the world of lip fillers, fake tan and fake boobs somewhat fascinating. It feels a shame to me that these cosmetic procedures are what it takes for some people to feel good about their bodies, but perhaps I’m fortunate to have a body I’m reasonably fond of and struggle to relate to the desire to modify it. Maybe If I was a woman having grown up surrounded by unreasonable societal image pressures I would feel quite differently, so I try not to judge too much.

The fascination with Love Island didn’t last long and we settled down to bed before 10pm. I’ve been doing a crap job of going to bed early enough lately and really appreciated this long sleep. We’d need it, with 110km and 1800m of elevation to do the following day.

Morning broke with the most incredible sunrise, with the moon still visible and whispy clouds blowing fast across the sky, bathed in a pinky-purple glow. I’ve seen a lot of great sunrises lately driving to work at 6:30am, but they are far better enjoyed from somewhere other than a car seat.

The riding on day two was pleasant, nothing technical, just cruising along the gravel roads and quiet lanes from forest to forest. The company was great and while I enjoyed being in the woods part of me couldn’t shake the yearning for singletrack. I remember that this is why I don’t own a gravel bike. I don’t not enjoy it, but am happier on some more technical singletrack. Today’s route took us through Ellwood, Soudley, The Pudds, Mallards Pike, and Nags Head, all spots that any mountain biker will nod appreciatively to. I’m already scheming a more ‘traily’ version of a similar loop.

Similarly to our first day, the ‘only 11km to go’ mark was to prove fatal. We rolled down the valley road towards Tintern, and were faced with a choice: stay on the road until Chepstow, or cross the bridge and take the Wye Valley Greenway. We unanimously voted for the off-road option and set off up the trail. I’d never ridden this side of the Wye before and was loving it. It was certainly better than slogging up the climb out of Tintern. That was until we reached the tunnel, which was closed due to unstable cliffs. Once again we were faced with a choice: to go all the way back down to the road, or try and get around the tunnel, up a steep track around the edge of a huge quarry.

I don’t like turning around, and would rather climb three barbed wire fences and hike a bike up a hundred steps than go a few miles back down the road. This is stubborn and foolish and has gotten me into silly situations in the past. We discussed the options as a group and decided to follow the labelled footpath up to the edge of the quarry. It was very lightly trodden, obscenely steep, and about as slippery as a Mario Kart banana skin. Obscene is the best word I’ve got for the gradient: I’ve done a lot of hiking, and a fair bit of hike-a-biking, and I’ve never carried a bike up anything this steep. It was a real testament to the quality of the group that nobody threw their toys out of the proverbial pram. Any sane person would be easily forgiven for losing their shit when presented with this ordeal at the end of a big day’s riding. Perhaps none of us are sane.

Sanity questioned, and the climb completed, we’d gotten through the challenge with nothing left but a trundle back to the cars in Chepstow. We made it for 6pm, which was far better than expected. Fists were bumped, hugs were exchanged, and thanks were given before making our own ways. These little adventures can feel so long when you’re within them, but over so soon when they end.

On arriving home I set to the task of trying to fix my wounded bicycle and stripped what remained of the hanger thread on inserting my HAG. The rear mech must have quite literally been hanging on by a thread, and I felt very fortunate it hadn’t let go sooner. I’ll pop a helicoil in it tomorrow.

All summed up we had a great couple of days on the pedals. I’d recommend this route and the hostel to anyone looking for a weekend of gravel riding. To the mountain bikers amongst you, I’d suggest making a shorter loop and throwing some trails in along the way, as it is quite a road/doubletrack heavy. I’ve already got an ‘extra trail’ version in mind that I’ll be no doubt roping a few people into soon.